


The Tickling Tyrant of Japan

by orphan_account



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Crack, Other, conquer, meeheehee, moustache, sengoku basara - Freeform, ultra-tight-impenetrable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sengoku Era has never known a fiercer conquerer than this-- Mogami Moustachio of the East seeks vengeance and rule upon all those who oppose his goals, his gentleman's principles, and his hairy revenge. ((This is a crackfic; I hope you've figured that out thus far.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tickling Tyrant of Japan

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt given to me by kakkobean on tumblr; she asked me to write "the story of how Yoshiaki's mustache conquered Japan". Here you are.

It all began one day when the Tiger of Kai advanced to Hasedo, determined to seize victory from the mustachioed fiend who dwelled there. Once the ally boat pounded into Yoshiaki’s Ultra-Tight-Impenetrable-Sealed Gate for the thousandth time in Sengoku era history, the Takeda marched onward, _ready to shatter the porcelain peace of teatime._  

“Why hello there, boys! Would you care for a cup of tea?”  

Sasuke just stared at the man, tilting his head to talk to Yukimura. “How can somebody walk outside wearing that horrible mint coat…? It’s… just nasty…”  

“… It’s very distracting,” Yukimura nodded, “I agree with you, Sasuke. You look much nicer today than he does.” Yukimura smiled, complimenting Sasuke’s red, white and black face paint, the green scarf around his neck, his wine-red shoulder jacket, and the light brown and yellow spiral pattern on his ninja garb. “It’s a wonderful alternate outfit. It suits you perfectly!” 

“Thanks, Master. I’m so glad you designed it for me…” Sasuke’s mouth twitched at the corner of his smile.

“Excuse me!” Yoshiaki shrieked, flailing an accusatory arm at them, “you should be paying attention to your enemy here… because anyone with the gall to mock a gentleman’s fashion is no friend of mine, _certainly_ not!” He tried to rush right at them, drawing his pointy, skinny sword with a flourish. “Feel the wrath of a gentleman’s scorn!” 

“That looks about the width of his dick…” Sasuke said calmly, poofing away and kicking Yoshiaki when he got too close to Yukimura.  

“N-No!” Yoshiaki screeched, his flawless face scraping the dirt. “My flawless face!!!” he scampered back up to his feet. “You…!” he paused, touching his lips. 

“Sasuke, that’s enough…!” Yukimura said, “he’s no threat to us… we should… negotiate with him?” 

“Uh… sure, we could try that… but do we really want anything of his, Master…?” 

“You… shall have only my eternal contempt and wrath, YOU BRATS!!” 

Sasuke and Yukimura blinked, looking at Yoshiaki. His face was caked with dirt, and not the kind of vanilla cake he liked. His marvelous moustache, the most sacred entity of all his resources, had been severely disfigured, and was also missing a torn-off piece at the .005 millimeter mark on the right side. 

“You shall rue the day you chose to pillage my domain, ravage my men, and especially, _espe-ci-a-lly_ **_MANHANDLE MY MOUSTACHE_** _!”_ Yoshiaki stomped his foot violently as he spoke, teeth clenched. His moustache twitched in agony. 

“That was not our intention in coming here, Mogami Yoshiaki!” Yukimura waved his hands, “we never intended to conquer your… ah, musta-“

“ENOUGH!” Yoshiaki snarled, “you will contend with my _true power_ , now…!” 

Suddenly, Yoshiaki’s moustache stood upright, antennas pointed towards his eyes. “Speak, my friend! Tell them of your repulsion!” 

“Be warned, Takeda!” A high-pitched voice squealed, “you now gaze upon the true conquerer of Japan— Mogami Moustachio of the East!!” The antennas pointed straight at Yukimura and Sasuke, who stared back at them. “MEEHEEEHEHEHEHEEEE~!”  

“What the hell—?!” Sasuke shouted, as Mustachio propelled itself and Yoshiaki into the air, a helicopter of bloodlust and dainty rage. 

“BE WARNED, FOOLS!” It called back, the screeching voice screeching. “I SHALL HAVE MY REVENGGGEEE MEEEEHEHEHEHEEEE~!” 

The two flew off into the distance, ascending the skies as the sun began to set, blood red. Sasuke and Yukimura watched them disappear. 

“This is foreboding, Sasuke… a new opponent rises to conquer the land…!” 

“Yukimura… it’s a moustache.” Sasuke stared at him. “What can a moustache do?”

“Great and terrible things, Sasuke… I can sense it.” 

Sasuke facepalmed so hard that day that his face paint smeared.

((TO BE CONTINUUUEEEED MEEHEEHEHEHEEEE))


End file.
